As Long as I Can
by mickeylover303
Summary: Greg finds himself lost in the darkness until Nick takes away the light. Fourteen Days tag.


The Light.

Contained and gently flickering as Greg tried his best to remain still – a feat more easily accomplished as time went by, despite his past experience to the contrary. There were smidgens of yellow around it, but it was mostly orange in colour. And he struggled to catch small glimpses of white – the hottest part of the flame – carving into blue that coiled at the bottom.

His hands were at his side, thumbs and forefingers resting inside his boxers as his shoulders sagged.

Greg held his head down, still able to see himself from the corner of his eyes through Nick's mirror, hanging above the dresser. The frame was black, more contemporary than he initially expected of Nick when Greg first came into the apartment…around this time last year. The mirror, sharp and angled, matched the only painting in the room – the one Nick did. It was either on the left or right side of the room. Greg wasn't sure if he forgot or just didn't want to remember.

And he didn't want to look up.

It'd only been a week since he was allowed out of the hospital and maybe a few days until he able to go back to work. By all accounts, this late at night, he should be sleeping, resting like he told Nick he would be. And aside from fact that he'd rarely spent the night at Nick's apartment, Greg never had problems sleeping here before.

Because it wasn't like he had any reason to be afraid. It wasn't like he could remember much about what happened when he was at the mercy of another person…when he was that close to mortality. What he could remember was too vague – blurred images that he would never be able to discern.

The combination of blood loss and rohypnol could do that to a person.

Greg closed his eyes, forgetting the bed behind him and picturing the candle in front of him, no longer wanting to look into the mirror that exposed him. He slowly curled his toes in Nick's carpet, gently rocking on his heels.

He didn't want to see the shadows on his face, the ones he'd never noticed because they'd never been there before…not in such a defined context. His façade was burning, glimmering, slowly fading away and Greg didn't know if he would be able to keep it up much longer. Any sense of sanity was slipping away.

He suppressed a shiver, pulling the long sleeves of Nick's shirt over his hands. He didn't know why he didn't just turn the air conditioner off, not sure when he began indulging in masochistic urges. But he wanted to feel cold. He wanted to feel something – anything – even if it was the prickling of his skin through the fabric of Nick's shirt, the hairs on his arms standing on end.

Maybe it was because that was the one sensation he could remember.

Because Greg kept forgetting about those two weeks he was missing. The combination of such heavy blood loss and the drug permeating throughout his bloodstream should have given him brain damage. It should have left him more incapable than he was, should have left him with visible scars.

But he only ended up dreaming about scars he didn't even allow Nick to see.

Greg opened his eyes, forcing himself to remain steady as he peered at the candle on Nick's dresser. He was surprised it was still lit, half expecting it to be blown out simply _because_. It was a small tea candle – something he found in the bottom cabinet from Nick's bathroom. The wax was beige in colour, smelling of vanilla and spice.

Homely.

The short wick was still managing to emit warmth – barely perceptible and quickly dampening in the dark. A small kind of hope that you were afraid to touch because there was that chance it would slip away and leave you with nothing.

And you would be alone.

Greg supposed that why he was always attracted to the light…why he found comfort in straying towards it.

But with the small light offered by the candle, Greg only felt like a shadow in Nick's room, someone dredging in the background as he took refuge in this sanctuary - in Nick's apartment. And he wasn't sure if he would be able to leave.

But it wasn't because Greg was afraid to go home…to his apartment. And it wasn't because of the nightmares. No. He knew he'd still have nightmares, regardless. They were nightmares Greg would fail to remember and nightmares Nick would sleep through. Sharing a bed – Nick's bed – didn't do much and he knew sleeping alone would do less.

Because his nightmares were suffered in silence.

But maybe Nick perceived more than Greg thought. Maybe that's why Nick had asked him…asked him if they'd want to move in together. Though, it wasn't simply if Greg wanted to move in with Nick. Nick asked if Greg wanted to share a new house with Nick.

Share a _home_ with Nick.

Greg wasn't sure whether it was too much or too soon, whether Nick felt obligated because Greg almost died. He wasn't sure if Nick felt guilty and was trying to compensate for the uncertainty that was in their relationship before – always underlying and intertwining with each decision they made.

He heard Nick's truck pull into the parking lot, recognised the familiar hums. He heard the slam of the door, stark against the former silence. He could imagine Nick moving up the stairs, skipping over steps, two at time to make the journey up six floors seem faster. And he heard Nick's key's, turning in the lock simultaneously with the click of handle.

So he didn't flinch when the door opened.

He wasn't in his apartment anymore, where they told him he was first taken. Not that it scared Greg to return there because he couldn't remember that either. So, he had nothing to fear when Nick's door opened and the lights weren't turned on.

He knew it was Nick – trusted that it was Nick – and said nothing when the door was closed.

"Greg?" He heard the soft whisper followed by the crackling of a paper bag, like laughter twisted in some kind of cruel irony. Greg almost forgot that Nick went to pick up his medicine… a deterrent that would keep Greg alive for the next couple of weeks. Or maybe sane would better describe it. He knew the scars over his body would fade in time.

He just wasn't sure if his sanity would, too.

Greg didn't answer Nick, pupils dilating as he focussed on a crinkling sound - Nick probably setting the bag on the bed. Greg never did like taking pills, especially the big ones that were harder to swallow. He felt the air shift, the warmth of Nick's body replacing the cold as Nick moved behind him, his shoes rustling against the soft carpet.

He bit the inside of his cheek, seeing Nick's silhouette as the other man leaned over him, settling his head on Greg's shoulder. He felt Nick's arms wrap around him as he took a deep breath, suddenly remembering to breathe when he saw the faint outline of their faces in the mirror, barely illuminated by the fading light of the candle.

Greg stared at what little he could see of Nick's reflection, not yet ready to look at his own. But Nick said nothing, simply waiting…like the small candle in front of them.

He could no longer distinguish the white in the candle – now faded and overwhelmed by the hues of orange and yellow. The wick was almost completely gone and the wax around it liquefied as the diminutive flame continued to waver.

As if it knew what was to come.

Greg inhaled, Nick doing the same as Greg felt Nick's chest rise against his back. His shoulders were still sagging, his posture slack and somewhat curving into Nick. And he still felt cold, chilled even when he was pressed to Nick's body. But Greg moved his fingers from his boxers, reaching from below Nick's hold to grip the wrists of the arms around his waist.

He felt himself relax, not enough to let go of his weight completely. But it was enough to refrain from closing his eyes when Nick bent over him to blow out the flickering candle.

Enveloping them in darkness.

* * *

_SID: Own not, do I_

_I've noticed that much of my writing (for CSI) is centred on portraying Greg through other perspectives and that somewhat bothers me because I favour Greg's character. In this one, I tried to imagine how Greg would react to the events that took place after Fourteen Days and how Nick may respond to it._

_I just see Greg as the kind of person who appears extroverted but there's so much going on that he won't let people see...like the whole deal with his mom and how being the only child has affected his outlook in life. And I wanted to approach how he would react in this kind of situation where he doesn't remember everything. Normally, the situation would be trying for anyone, but I don't think Greg would be someone who could admit that something was wrong. Or maybe that's just me._


End file.
